


Saving You

by ReynaAtTheEnd



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, M/M, Minor Character Death, Polyamory, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReynaAtTheEnd/pseuds/ReynaAtTheEnd
Summary: Deirdru was days away, and even as they closed in on it, panic sat in Dimitri's heart like a stone. He couldn't forget the chaos at Gronder, the moment he'd passed by in favor of revenge. Please, Sothis, please, let us reach him in time. He could not let violence claim one more person that he loved.Or, one time Dimitri nearly chose the dead over the living, and one time he didn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I got this idea while in the middle of writing the next chapter of my novel-length DimiClauLeth fic, and while it didn't fit with the way the story is panning out for that story, it was fully-formed enough that I decided to write it out as its own thing. Hope you like it!

“The Alliance is somewhere in the fog...” Byleth could hear the question in Gilbert's voice, even as it made her heart sink horribly.

Dimitri scoffed, shifting Areadbhar on his shoulder. “What of it? Claude is not so mad he would assist the Bloody Empress. If he and his people are here, they have not come to bring _us_ trouble.”

Even though the words vaguely passed as praise, there was no hint of the affection he'd borne for the 'mad duke' within them. He might as well have been talking about some minor lord he'd heard of once or twice. How much of her Dimitri was even left? Should she just be glad he wasn't willing to cut through their beloved's forces in order to get to Edelgard?

Goddess, how _had_ Claude reacted to the letter she'd managed to send him? Had he come to the conclusion that there was nothing of Dimitri left to save? Had he decided, perhaps not unreasonably, that it wasn't safe or even _logical_ for the Alliance to ally with an unstable bloodthirsty warrior king? What did he even think of 'his prince' now?

“_Ignore the Alliance!_” Dimitri's thundering command shook her from her thoughts. Dorothea was using an old stage magic trick to enhance his voice; likely everyone on the field could hear him. “_The Bloody Empress hopes her paltry mind games will distract us from the task at hand! She, ever the coward, is trying to turn us against our neighbors so she can sweep in afterwards and destroy us both! Her savage minions did as much in Duscar when they murdered your king and his knights, framing those lived there for the deed, making murderers out of our people! This time, such pathetic power plays will NOT be enough to save her!” _He strode forward, bringing the ancestral weapon of his house down and back; light blazed within, Atrocity ready for use_. “Forward, my warriors, to victory! Smash the Empire's lines. __**Kill every last one of them!”**_

Byleth quickly drew the Sword of the Creator and rushed after him; ever since he'd come back to her, in every fight she'd had to spend Divine Pulse at least once in order to keep him alive. He fought like a man possessed, and perhaps he was. He didn't watch his back; not because he trusted her to protect him, as before, but because nothing else mattered now but killing Edelgard and avenging all the voices tormenting him.

Her eyes frantically panned the fog-landed grass for any sign of Claude or the Alliance; it was difficult to tell, but she thought they were clustered at the far left end of the field, exactly where they'd been set up during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. She could just barely make out a wyvern up in the air, scouting, most likely.

_Did Edelgard have a mage spawning this fog, just as Lord Lonato had done seemingly a lifetime ago?_ It was the middle of a clear and sunny day, so it wasn't as if this was natural. If she could just find – that thought was cut off when she saw Dimitri slice straight through the neck of a Demonic Beast, slaughtering it in one clean shot with the power of his Relic. A mage was skittering about, trying to get a good angle to attack from...

She darted into the woods, unfurling her sword and letting it fly. The mage died in a gurgling scream.

Dimitri laughed, wrenching Aaerbhar from the corpse and throwing himself into the fray. Taking a javilin tossed to him by Syvlain, he threw it at a pegasus knight who died with a scream as her mount fell from the sky. Swallowing hard, (_Dimitri's laughter in battle had never sounded so maniac; the noble, kind boy she'd met in the woods would be _horrified_ if he could see himself now..._) she rushed to keep up, looking to the left and the right to take stock of Felix, Ingrid, Dedue, Mercedes and Annette. It didn't matter how much stronger they'd gotten in the years that she had spent asleep, they were still her students damn it, and even as she struggled to save Dimitri she couldn't neglect them.

A mighty flare of Aura drew her eyes to Rodrigue and Gilbert, who were leading the rank and file down the path toward Hubert's position. She'd hoped to be able to deal with Hubert herself, but she doubted that the Shield of Faerghus would be unable to handle him.

“Dimitri! Watch out for the ballista!” She shouted, watching as massive, heavy arrows began to fall one after another from the central hill. Bernie let out a squeak of terror when one landed near her foot; Felix quickly hauled her out of range, shoving her behind him. The last one grazed the prince of Faerghus, but he barely even acknowledged it, or her, or the blood spilling down his arm.

Cursing in both frustrated rage and grief at the degeneration of her love, she spun, found the first two people who were close to her and shouted, “Dedue! Ashe! Cover Dimitri! I'm going to deal with the central hill!”

“You're going to what?!” Ashe asked with a slightly panicky edge.

“Be careful, professor!” Dedue called back even as he rushed to cross the distance between himself and his prince.

Silently beseeching Ashe to listen to her as he always did, Byleth turned on her heels and darted through the trees up the wood and steel structure in the middle of Gronder. Three knights barred her way, but they were rank and file, and she had fought dozens, hundreds of their like by now. She swung the sword of the creator in an arc, throwing the first two off their horses. Bringing it back solidified it into a single blade as the final knight charged her. She raised her hand and cast Aura; the blinding power incinerated man and horse both with the fire of her Crest.

Another ballista bolt flew over her head, striking somewhere behind her. Byleth prayed that it had done no damage as she rushed up the stairwell to the wooden framework where the woman controlling the ballisa stood. The very device the enemy was using to endanger her family effectively trapped her in place; Byleth vaulted over the wooden barrier, slinging the sword of the creator over her shoulder she instead grabbed an arrow from her quiver and rammed through the woman's eye, killing her more or less instantly. Taking her bow, she began firing on the horsemen as they wheeled around to face her, nailing one after the other with shaky hands but perfect accuracy.

Claude had taught her very well.

_(He'd flirted with them during the battle of the Eagle and Lion, including extensive complements over her scars. During his duel with Dimitri, he'd cheerfully implied that he was having fun both in the match itself and imagining them doing...other things.)_

Screaming seemed to come from all directions. Glancing over her shoulder showed a steady march of blue amidst the fog. Her army was continuing to advance, slowly but surely. If the visibility weren't so poor, they'd be making even better progress. Edelgard was relying so heavily on demonic beasts they outnumbered her mounted forces.

_(She'd been expecting as much [though perhaps not how explicit and clearly serious he was] and warned Dimitri ahead of time. She hadn't expect her prince to gladly flirt back by noting that disarming your fiance in a spar was considered foreplay in Faerghus!)_

She still couldn't see the Alliance moving...in fact, the fog on their side was getting thicker, she was certain of it! It must be Edelgard, in response to Dimitri's opening rally, trying to block any attempt at coordination between the sides with the chance of causing conflict between them much weaker.

_(Claude had actually sputtered at that, and turned bright red when Dimitri managed to knock his longbow away moments later. Of course, Dimitri himself had immediately gotten horribly flustered when he realized what he'd effectively just done, allowing Claude the upper hand again...she'd needed to bail her poor prince out at that point...)_

Armored Knights charged forward, surrounding her. She put her bow aside and fired one Thunder spell after another, wondering if they didn't recognize her and what they were dealing with. It was common knowledge that she, bearer of the Crest of Flames and face of the Church in its revival, could use both magic and swords simultaneously.

She perched on the edge of the ballista's support, firing another Thunder at her approaching foes. A pegasus knight dived at her; she danced to the right and threw Bolganone at them in turn; the spell scalded them but didn't kill, only sending both pegasus and rider tumbling away. Byleth quickly came to the grim realization that the Empire was encircling her, cutting her off from her students and fellow soldiers.

_(Bernadetta had gotten hurt on this very scaffolding during the Eagle and Lion tournament; part of broke unexpectedly and collapsed under her. Felix, surprising everyone but her and Ingrid, drove in after her, pulled her out of the resulting debris, and carried her off the field to the healers on standby. Bernie transferred to the Blue Lion house a few days later.)_

Byleth took out the Sword of the Creator again, unleashing its fury on the paladin closest to her. She avoided killing the horse, but the rider wasn't so lucky.

_(Marianne knocked Mercedes out of the fight with a high-powered Blizzard. Yet during the feast afterwards, the two were talking quite amicably, especially impressive considering Marianne's sad and closed-off demeanor. Linhardt joined them, and they ended up in a friendly discussion about combat magic.) _

Ingrid was the closest person who could assist, but she was tied up dealing with a demonic beast. From what Byleth could see from her current position, Rodrigue and Gilbert had indeed defeated Hubert, but she suspected that the dark mage had escaped given neither had left the field to see that he was secured.

_(Casper and Raphael traded jabs on the field and jokes off of it, cheerfully swearing to one-up each other in training after their fight apparently ended in a draw.) _

Her body was beginning to ache a bit with just how much magic she was using all at once. Not debilitating, but enough that she knew she had to be wary. She swung the sword in a wide arc again, driving away the pegasus knight approaching her.

_(Even Hubert was in fairly decent spirits, though he was more gloomy than Edelgard over having lost the battle. He and Ferdinand were sitting together, which had baffled her at the time...though given Ferdinand's dying words had been Hubert's name...she wished that the proud noble had just _surrendered-_) _

It happened so fast. Too fast, really.

The wooden deck below her rumbled fiercely. She barely had time to look down in confusion before flames exploded from underneath it with the force of a howling wind, engulfing her and the Empire soldiers that were, even then, still trying to approach her. The entire rampart was consumed in an instant, the flames too large and too _hot _to be anything but some kind of alchemy.

Edelgard had lain a trap. (_She had taken this rampart herself in the Battle of Eagle and Lion, with some help from Felix.) _

The pain was sudden and unbelievable. She scrambled to move, to get her bearings, to do something other than focus on the hellish agony surrounding her...and then the deck below her feet had broken underneath her right leg, causing her to collapse and trapping her at the bottom of the flames.

She must have started screaming, though she was barely aware of it and it was a really bad idea with the smoke the flames caused amidst the flames. For good measure, the ballisa, with its rope rigging and wooden supports, collapsed on top of her, trapping her further. Fire and flame was all that she could see. Some tiny corner of her mind called it ironic. The rest of her that wasn't consumed with a fiery, agonized panic reached desperately for the power of her Crest, willing it to make her a little stronger.

_I can't die here...I can't...there's too much...left undone..._

She could smell her skin burning. Sothis's power protected her to an extent...but she was still mortal. It just meant that it would take her longer to die, writhing, struggling to free herself as her addled brain sent contradicting signals to her body.

_Dimitri...Claude...I...I..._

Some massive dark thing appeared over her and the fire. She heard a piercing shriek that she couldn't decide was a demonic beast or something else...

Then feet hit the ground next to her. Hands dragged the burning wood and rope aside even as the person they belonged to gasped in pain. Those hands seized her, pulling her away; first up, then more carefully forward when she cried due to her trapped leg. _You'll die, _she tried to cry out to them, but her throat was too raw from smoke and screaming to form any coherent words. Whoever it was didn't stop, no matter how long they lingered within the blaze, tugging her leg out of the hole without dislocating a single joint. They dragged her free and suddenly she was thrown into something hard and blessedly cool.

She barely had the chance to raise her head when suddenly she was swept upward with a violent jerk, up in to the air. A hand on her back steadied her as she nearly rolled off and down the side of – of – of a wyvern? Her vision was completely blurry.

“I've got you,” gasped out a familiar voice. “H-Hang in there, T-Teach.”

Teach? Teach. Teach...that was...?

They landed as abruptly as they had been taken to the air; the fire was gone, so was the smoke; the rider staggered off his mount with a horribly-strangled sounding noise. A noise quickly followed by “Marianne!”, and the thundering of feet in the mud.

Byleth blinked as hard as she could, trying to focus even as she hacked and coughed and tried to focus on anything other than her burned body. As she did so, the blessed warmth of Physic washed over her senses, bringing back her reason and wit with it.

Claude swam into view as it did so, smiling weakly at her as he slumped against his crooning snow white wyvern. As Byleth's brain recovered, her first thought was _when did he get taller than me?_ Her second thought was _how did he even know I was on the hill? _Her third thought, and the most important one at the moment, was _oh Sothis, he's completely covered in burns! _It was also clear by the blood on his clothes that those weren't his only injuries.

“Claude...” She choked out, crawling across the muddy ground toward him. The rest of the battle seemed miles away; she didn't even wonder if they had a guard other than Marianne, who promptly cast Physic on her again. “You...you...why...?”

He chuckled, which quickly broke down into a painful-sounding coughing fit. She reached him then, raising a trembling hand and casting _Recover _with all the strength she could muster. “Now w-who's being absurd?” He retorted, voice rasping horribly. “T-Teach, you t-think you're a cat, with nine l-lives to throw away? I saved you o-once...don't make me have to s-save you again...”

_Is he _really _quoting that stupid poem at me right _now _of all times?!, _Byleth thought hysterically. Her whole body _hurt _despite Marianne's best efforts, but she could think, stand, walk and fight if she had to, and that just have to do. She cast _Recover_ again, screwing up her eyes in concentration. How had he gotten so badly hurt?! The whole point of air superiority was that it was _hard to hit you_! “Y-you went into the fire to get me! You could have _died! _You stupid, mad prince! What were you thinking?!”

Sobbing, she wrapped her burned arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the lips. He tenderly stroked her hair, returning her touch as best he was able. He was in so much pain...

“Where's Mitya?” He whispered against her cheek.

“Chasing Edelgard.” She replied, pulling back so their foreheads touched. “Dedue and Ashe are with him...” It was a pity she didn't sound confident. She wasn't sure she fully trusted Dedue to prevent Dimitri from doing something stupid. Keep him alive? Absolutely. Keep him from recklessly attempting to succeed in his mission...?

“I heard.” Claude let out another raspy laugh. “Gods, By, he sounded half mad.”

“I'm not sure he isn't.” It hurt to say that out loud. But Dimitri had always, _always _rushed after her when she ended up in an unfavorable position. He was nowhere to be seen, however, in that moment when she'd been burning...

“Hang in there,” He said with a weak smile. “Mitya cares too much about people to leave their pain unanswered. You need to shore up his good sense.”

“Come with me,” She whispered. “The two of us can...”

“Ha...do I want to? Absolutely. Can I? The Alliance is too fragile. If I disappear off to Firdihad right now, I don't trust Lord Glouester not to hand Deirdru over to Edelgard with a bow on top.” Claude smiled again, still weakly, still softly. “Kiss him for me, will you...?”

Byleth shut her eyes and gently, carefully pressed her lips against his. “Stay alive,” She whispered. “I can't loose you now...I love you...”

“Love you too,” He whispered back. Marianne knelt next to him; Byleth gave her a smile and a grateful embrace before staggering to her feet and hurrying back to the battlefield, casting one desperate longing look over her shoulder to see Marianne helping Claude back onto his wyvern, healing him intermediately. Raphael had come up behind them at some point, standing guard. He waved when he saw her gaze.

She clutched the Creator's Sword lightly, glad it had magically returned to her hand or else it would be lost within the burning wooden structure. She still ached; Sothis, did she ache, and she didn't think she had enough magic to pull off another Divine Pulse. She couldn't fight much longer, if at all. With that in mind...she had to find Dimitri.

Most of the Imperial Army was gone. With the ballista and the mage controlling the fog taken out, the Alliance had stormed the field on Claude's orders and taken down the Imperials struggling with the Kingdom's troops with extreme prejudice. Anyone who hadn't surrendered, mostly the fanatics that Edelgard had drawn around herself with her cult of personality and big imperialistic speeches, were dying in the grass or fleeing back toward familiar land.

As she approached the place where Edelgard had been at first, she noticed a few things. One, the Emperor was nowhere to be seen. Two, the place where she likely had been, a fortified healing tower, was surrounded by corpses – her loyal retainers, throwing themselves onto Areadbhar to ensure her escape. Three, Dimitri was still standing there – and had just fallen to his knees. What-?!

For a brief moment Byleth wondered if her pain addled mind was playing tricks on her; if she had passed out admist the flames and imagined all of this. But no, even her nightmares didn't play out this suddenly and unexpectedly...

There was a girl. That girl who'd claimed she'd wanted to avenge someone, joined them at the bridge – what had been an Imperial-held bridge. She was standing right behind Dimitri, shrieking something Byleth was still too dazed to make out, wielding a long dagger.

Byleth picked up her pace...yet it didn't quite matter. As she approached, Rodrigue dropped off his horse sans his lance (he must have lost it in a demonic beast or the like), rushed over to his prince and threw himself in front of the weapon. She heard the _thud, _and his following words to her... “Professor...do it now!”

She obeyed, even as she realized that the knife had gone into his lung which was likely already filling with blood. Healing that wound...wouldn't help. Not in the state she herself was in. She unfurled the sword and struck the teenager down with a single angry, grief-stricken curse; her scream of pain was haunting.

Putting the sword away, trembling and shivering, she slowly staggered her way over to a hysterical Dimitri and the dying Shield of Faerghus.

“...I am dying...for what I believe in...just as they did.” How could someone sound so calm and warm as they died? Byleth realized with a horrible ache that her father had spoken in just the same way as he died in her arms those years ago...She knelt down, choking down the whimper of pain caused by her whole body protesting the gesture, and clasped Rodrigue's arm in comfort and gratitude. “Your life is your own. Live for what you believe in.”

Rodrigue glanced her way for a brief moment. Blood trickled from the corner of his lip. “Princess...thank you, for all that you've done...and all you'll do from now on. And...him as well. Do give him my regards...”

Byleth swallowed and nodded, wondering how the man knew about Claude...though it didn't really matter, did it... “I should be thanking you,” She responded quietly, her heart aching for Felix; she looked up for any sign of the man's son, and saw a blue figure hurtling down the field toward them.

Dimitri sobbed, head bowed in despair. Rodrigue smiled and whispered, “My boy...you really do look just like His Majesty...” He closed his eyes. “Felix...I...”

“Father?” Felix skidded to a halt, crashing down on his knees in the mud and cast his sword aside. Bernadetta stopped a few feet away, eyes wide as dinner plates, hands pressed against her mouth. “Father?!” Byleth wondered how long it had been since he'd used that word instead of 'old man' or other derisive equivalents.

Rodrigue didn't have the strength to say anything; he just reached for his son with a shaking hand. Felix took it without hesitation, and gave her such a desperate pleading look it killed her to close her eyes helplessly.

Then she made the mistake of trying to stand up.

Her stomach revolted. Her vision went gray, and then black as her legs turned to water. She heard Bernadetta shriek for Mercedes as she slumped down in the mud, shock finally settling over her body after a long delayed reaction. She lay still and frozen, face down in the mud, all thoughts fleeing as a fuzzy blanket of pain settled over her.

“Byleth? _Byleth?!” _She was too insensate to answer, even as her heart simultaneously soared and wept at Dimitri's terrified scream. “No, no no no...please, you can't, you can't, Byleth, please, oh goddess what happened to you? Who did this to you?!” His strong hands turned her over, lifting her head in his arms. “Look at me...y- you have to...”

“Dimitri, let me see her-”

“You can't die, not you too, I can't, I don't, please, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-”

“Dimitri, move!”

“I'm sorry...please, please look at me...I love you, I can't live without you, please...”

“Dimitri, stop, give her to me...she's not gone yet, but I need you to give her to me and stay back.” A warm hand settled on her forehead. “Oh professor...it's okay. I've got you...”

The soft tones of their army's primary healer were the last thing she heard before passing out.

\+ _ + _ + _

Warmth was the first thing Byleth noticed afterward.

After she collapsed on the field, she had slipped in and out of consciousness, only aware of Dimitri carrying her with timid caution and Mercedes's worried murmurs. Occasionally she'd hear snippets from Dedue, Ashe and Annette, but their voices blurred together and she had no idea what they were saying to each other. She tried to tilt her head, to focus, but her body was disinclined to obey, and she felt Dimitri's strong arms tighten around her whenever she twitched.

When the shock finally wore off, she drifted away completely, sinking into a deep and fathomless dream...

_She lay on a hill, splayed halfway in a familiar lap with fingers tracing gentle lines in her hair. She could hear the wind in the trees and the laughter of children down in the field. She could hear her father's voice, groaning over terrible jokes or teasing the little ones darting around his feet like particularly energetic puppies. There was no screaming, no smell of blood or fire, nothing but peace and comfort... A warm Almyran tune mingled in with the jokes and laughter, a fast-paced melody usually saved for the day of marriage. She reached out into the light of the sun, her hand fumbling until it found those gentle calloused fingers she knew so well. _

“Byleth...”

_She hummed softly, trying to match the beat; her attempts were still clumsy despite all the time she'd spent directing choir practice. She had a tendency to loose track of the beat that Annette had yet to train her out of. _

_A gentle chuckle from the man cradling her made her pout, snuggling deeper against his stomach. As if he was any better! He could play the piano fine, but he couldn't catch a key change to save his own life._

“Please wake up...”

_She blinked, looking up at the sky so full of bright golden light she couldn't truly perceive it. He gently squeezed her wrist; she heard her father tell a joke that send the children in the field into a great fit of laughter. _

_I don't want to leave this place, she thought muddily, trying to sit up and see those happy children with her own eyes. Her body wouldn't move, though; it was heavy, as if she were deep underwater. She imagined two of them had green eyes, while the third had blue. _

“Please...please don't leave me...”

_But I haven't..._

“Byleth...”

_Where are you?, she wondered. The light grew brighter and brighter, and she seemed to fall up toward the sky. Everything vanished once again as the dream faded away._

The first thing Byleth noticed was the ceiling looked familiar. This was...her room, back at the monastery. She blinked a few times in confusion; they'd won at Gronder, hadn't they? She was sure of it; they couldn't have lost, not with the Alliance's help. Dimitri had made it completely clear that they would not stop marching until they took Enbarr... She tried to move. Her body didn't hurt anymore, and the burns had been healed to the point of mere faint scarring, but her limbs were stiff and sore in a way that told her she'd been lying very still for quite some time. The warm, fluffy blanket that was covering her felt like a heavy weight.

A quiet chill slipped down her spine. She truly had come close to death, hadn't she?

Tilting her head to the right made her see something that caused her heart leap into her throat. Dimitri was there, somewhat precariously leaning on a chair next to her bed, her right hand clasped in his, eyes closed in a fitful sleep. He looked...broken; his body language conveying a sense of fear and despair that she had only seen once before, at the Goddess Tower when she found him again.

Gently she squeezed his wrist; sure enough, even that slight pressure jolted him into wakefulness. His eyes widened with equal parts joy and terror; for a moment she thought he'd bolt from the room. “Byleth?”

“What happened?” She rasped.

“What-? I...we won, at the field, but you were – you were terribly injured. Burned. Mercedes told me -” His expression crumbled even further. “-that you and Claude...that Edelgard had set a trap in the central hill. You almost died...he almost died saving you. All while I was...” He swallowed and stood up in a hurry. “Are – are you in any pain? I can get Mercedes – she's not far, I-”

“Mitya. Please stay.”

He froze for a horribly long moment; it stretched on enough that she started trying to sit up – she doubted she had anywhere near the strength to stop him if he did make an escape, but she had to _try _dammit. Dimitri hurriedly sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her down by the shoulders, shaking his head violently. “No, you need to rest.”

“I recover quickly,” She chided him. “I always have.” Reaching up to clasp his wrist, she asked softly, “You brought us back here? I thought you wanted to go straight to Enbarr. Even with resupplying in mind, this is quite a bit of backtracking, isn't it?”

Dimitri stared down at her hand. Byleth waited patiently for him to get his bearings, and she noticed that for all he looked haggard and sleep deprived...the bags under his eyes were gone. “I...how can you still look at me like that? I...I was so lost in madness...I ignored the ballista, I ignored _you_, all to get at Edelgard. I didn't even spare Claude a _thought _until the Alliance started retreating...they only would have done that to protect him by then. I knew, yet I put it aside to try and chase El...” She didn't know what expression she wore at that, but it made him flinch. “You – how can you forgive me for that? I left you to burn to death!”

She let out a sigh, rubbing her fingers against his cool skin. “Mitya...I made a decision to try and change to the tides of battle. I chose to put my faith in you, in our army, as I have every time before. And you didn't knowingly send me into a trap. It was logical for you to seek out Edelgard; without her the imperial army has no courage.”

“Logical...” His weak laughter was half hysterical. “Edelgard's death was not worth coming back to your charred corpses! Nothing is! Even if I won this war it would bring me nothing! I cannot bear for you to be reduced to mere ghosts, following me, lost and betrayed.”

“Mitya...”

“I valued my own revenge over what little I have left and I...” His voice broke into a sob. “I...”

Byleth carefully reached up, brushing his hair to the side. He grabbed her hand, trembling, fighting to keep his breathing steady. “I would never choose to haunt you,” She murmured. “Do you know why?” A ragged sob was the only response. Gently she touched her forehead to his and said, “I would not ever want to burden you with pain, no matter what I lost. I would want your triumph, for you to keep living your life. Not for my sake, but for your own.”

“Ha...ha...Rodrigue said the same thing...but...I do not deserve...”

She tightened her grip, lacing her fingers with his. “It's not about what anyone deserves,” She corrected softly. “It's about what we believe in. And I believe in you.” She hesitated for a moment, letting her poor suffering prince absorb that thought, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “That's from Claude,” She whispered.

Dimitri laughed.

It was weak, watery, and broke off into a sort of strangled knot of emotional sobbing, but it lifted her heart in a way she hadn't experienced since finding him alone and broken on the floor of the Goddess Tower. “He...of course he would...”

She nodded, letting out a soft chuckle of her own. “Why did we come back here, Dimitri? Did Edelgard have more troops in Enbarr than expected?”

Her prince finally looked her in the eye and shook his head. “No. I brought us back here because...because I need to march north. I need to go home. I need to reclaim my crown and my people. I refuse to be the death of all those who put their faith in me.”

She smiled. “I see. What's our strategy, then?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Alliance calls for aide; love answers

Dimitri looked down at the lively party in the streets from the balcony of his palace, marveling at how despite their hardships his people had been celebrating his return for two nights straight. He still couldn't quite decide whether he should be touched by their love for him or devastated by it. Knowing he had left them for years was a regret that lay heavy on his heart, and likely always would. He'd stayed amid the festivities as often and for as long as he could manage, greeting and tending to everyone he could, though he'd ultimately had to retreat more than once. It was...very overwhelming, after everything.

He smiled. From his vantage point, he could see Ashe approaching Annette and sweeping her off to dance. A faint memory of the ball all those years ago, where the young man had claimed he could hardly dance at all, swam up from the dark mire that had lingered in his thoughts – banishing it and replacing it with warm satisfaction for his friend. Dorothea and Sylvain were dancing too, and at this point he was starting to wonder if there really was something going on between the two of them. _And to think I was convinced that Sylvain would never settle down enough to marry..._

Felix was missing, and so was Bernadetta...unsurprising, though he did wonder where they'd wandered off to. Felix...was still mourning, though he kept it as close to his chest as ever. Bernadetta probably felt uncomfortable under the uncertain looks she was getting from some of the capital citizens; after all they'd been through, trusting Count Varley's daughter was not the easiest prospect. Dimitri silently promised that she wouldn't have to suffer under undue criticism; considering she worked up the courage to flee from her terrible father in order to support the kingdom, armed with nothing but her bow and bravery, she was owed their respect and gratitude.

No sign of his Byleth, though given how much attention _she'd_ been weathering as the new archbishop, perhaps she'd felt the need to escape as well.

“There you are,” As if his thoughts had summoned her, a slender hand stole into his and squeezed lightly. Dimitri smiled in spite of his thoughts as he turned to face her. Byleth looked tired but hale, her eyes sparkling with a warmth that never failed to make him weak. “You felt overwhelmed again?”

“Just a bit,” He acknowledged. “I'm glad food is no longer a concern...and I'm glad everyone is so happy.” He hesitated. “Even though we are far from done yet.”

“That doesn't mean we shouldn't celebrate our victory here,” Byleth chided gently. “If all goes well, this is the final battle that will be fought here in the Kingdom. No one here has to fear the sword anymore.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You were wonderful, Mitya. With the food supply problem sorted out, we can depart for the Kingdom with no worries. Gilbert can manage the throne until we return.”

_Rodrigue would have done that, if he had lived, _Dimitri thought but thankfully did not say. The pain was still too near for what-ifs. “Please, don't praise me for fulfilling the bare minimum of my duty to my people. It should have been my first concern from the start.”

“You were not well, and you came back.” Byleth responded, her grip tightening. “Between that and reclaiming the Silver Maiden, we have the kingdom secured. You _should _be proud; everyone else is.”

He chuckled softly. “You will not ever let me dwell anymore, will you?”

“Yes.” The sheer bluntness of her response made laughter bubble up in his throat. Her eyes shone at the sound; he would never, ever tire of seeing the way happiness made her face light up.“I'm not very good at making you laugh yet,” Byleth noted, “But for now, I can settle for getting you to smile.”

His smile faltered a bit, reminded quite sharply of who _could _make him laugh, even when he attempted to resist it. “Thank you,” He said softly.

Honestly, sometimes Dimitri wondered if Byleth could read his mind; her own smile dimmed, and then she stood on her toes to kiss his lips. “We'll see him soon,” She pointed out when they parted. “It's much faster to pass through Alliance territory to reach Empire territory. We just need to send a letter asking to negotiate travel rights, among other things. He won't deny us.”

“He has to contend with his equals,” Dimitri pointed out reluctantly. “I don't doubt he would try to help us, but I...did not make for a convincing ally at Gronder.”

“You prevented Edelgard from causing us to attack each other,” Byleth noted. “That will speak in our favor, more than anything. As for the battle...everyone becomes a little disturbing in combat. They may well have assumed you were consumed by righteous outrage.”

“If only that were the truth,” He responded ruefully. “Honestly, I...I had intended to send such a letter yesterday, but I just couldn't write anything I was happy with. Either I addressed Claude exclusively, treating him like a fellow king...or I ended up with something that couldn't quite hide my frustration and disdain with his fellows who supported the Empire. Which I doubt Lord Glouester would take kindly too, given that Lorenz was killed by our men on the Bridge...”

Byleth sighed, closing her eyes. Dimitri's heart hurt for her; he may not have known Lorenz in anything but passing, but she had, thanks to the time she spent training the Golden Deer students on some of her off days. “It would have to be worded somewhat delicately, yes,” She said with a surprising calm, “but after loosing his son in a battle where his primary concern – the bridge being used to invade his lands – was eliminated by us seizing control of it...I don't think it would be too hard to Claude to convince the other Lords to support us.”

“I certainly hope so,” Dimitri put an arm around her shoulder “Or else finding a good entry point for invading the Empire will prove difficult.”

Byleth thought for a moment before saying, “You could ask Seteth for help. He's a strong mediator, and he'd be glad to have a distraction while Flayn recovers from that ballistic burn she was hit with.”

“Hah...I wonder why I hadn't thought of that. Do you know if-?”

“Your Highness,” Gilbert's voice interrupted them. He bowed when they turned to face him, his expression mildly contrite. “Forgive me for intruding. We've just received an express messenger from the Alliance. He claims to have urgent news from the south.”

“Urgent?” Dimitri parroted. Unease pooled in his stomach like a vile poison. “What could Claude need right now...? Right. Let us receive him.”

Claude's messenger had fainted from exhaustion moments after being let through the gates. That alone warned Dimitri that the tidings couldn't be anything good; a quick summons brought his classmates and Gilbert into the audience chamber to hear what the Master Tactition had been so desperate to get to them. Claude never did anything without a purpose, and he had been in a strong position when they left Gronder. What could have happened?

The answer was madness. Edelgard's madness...

“Javelins of light?” Felix blurted out halfway through the letter. “Fire raining from the sky? Is that supposed to be a metaphor for something, or is he screwing with us?”

“Claude wouldn't lie in a message begging for help,” Annette said, her face pale. “Did anyone survive that? A city, a whole city just...wiped out, all at once...what is the Emperor thinking?”

Dimitri couldn't even begin to answer that. The sheer level of destruction implied in the letter was impossible to wrap his head around. _El did this. I thought she couldn't be crueler than supporting Cornelia. How? How did it come to this?_ Byleth doesn't say anything out loud, but he saw her knuckles turning white as she gripped the hilt of her sacred weapon.

“The destruction may have unified the Alliance in mutual hatred of the Emperor, but the damage to their army was not insignificant.” Gilbert closed his eyes. “The Emperor must have decided that one of her enemies had to fall, before we had a chance to unite against her. When we threw out Cornelia...that left the Alliance. Duke Riegan had proven too capable a political enemy for her to turn the lords to her side, so she had to chase other options.” The old knight shook his head. “That city was south of the capital, Deirdru. The Empire means to cut a bloody swath to the city, seize it, and either capture or kill Duke Riegan. Without him, the Alliance would fall apart.”

“Then we have to go,” Ingrid blurted out, one hand dropping to her lance. “We can't let the Empire overrun the Alliance. Even if we put aside our friends there, if the Bloody Empress succeeds, she'll easily be able to mount a counter invasion of Faerghus!”

“Do we have _time _to make it there before Deirdru is attacked?” Syvlain wondered grimly. Dorothea smacked him on the arm, causing him to wince. “Hey, I'm not saying we should sit on our hands, I'm just wondering if we can still make it! It would've taken the messenger a week to get here, and even if we push it it's still a four day's journey. If the Empire is already inside the border-”

“Aren't there Warp Staves in the castle vault?” Dorothea interrupted her boyfriend, her expression set with determination. “If they're still useable, we can cut our travel time in half. _And _the Empire wouldn't expect it; they'd assume we're taking the long way around.” She gave Byleth an entreating look that nevertheless had a knowing edge to it. “Isn't that right, Professor?”

Byleth's head snapped towards Gilbert. “Did Cornelia not remove them?” She asked.

“I don't know, your worship,” The knight answered. “Though I think she may have ignored them in favor of trying to consolidate her hold on the country. I'll send someone to check the vaults; with His Highness's permission, of course.”

“Do so now,” Dimitri responded, relieved that his voice came out mostly steady. “Once you've found them or confirmed their absence, go and muster the knights. Either way, we ride for Deirdru at first light!”

Gilbert bowed and hastened to fulfill the order. As soon as he left, the room burst into anxious, fitful conversations, everyone talking on top of each other as reassurances bled into newfound anxieties and recriminations. Dimitri watched the vocal chaos unfold with a hard swallow, his heart racing; he met Byleth's frightened blue eyes and knew all that he feared was racing through her mind as well.

Even now, his professor didn't show dread easily. That he could see it in her eyes said more than words could hope to.

“The Alliance will hold,” Dedue said, as if reading his thoughts. “They are as loyal and devoted to Claude and their home as we are to ours. They will not give up an inch of ground without making the Empire bleed for it.”

Mercedes shook her head, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “But how many people will die in those battles before we can arrive? This is terrible...how could Edelgard do this? An entire city, and almost everyone living in it...”

“Madness,” Shamir muttered while crossing her arms. “Madness and stupidity. She's killed any chance of being accepted as Fodlan's ruler with that, more effectively than slitting her own throat. No one can rule over millions of people who want them dead, and they'll _never _forgive her for that kind of wanton slaughter.”

“We should have joined up with Alliance back at Gronder!” Catherine groaned, pressing one hand against her forehead. “If we'd presented a more united front, she might have known she couldn't afford that; or at least we could have prevented them from taking advantage of the chaos.”

“It may well be the same sort of sorcery that Cornelia used in those metal golems she had patrolling Fhirdiad.” Hannamen mused, frowning. “Her allies...those dark mages...are responsible for all of it. Where did she find them? Where did they come from, to be capable of such things?”

Seteth didn't say anything, but his expression darkened significantly at the mention of the mages. Not for the first time, Dimitri wondered if the man knew more than he let on.

“I hope Ignatz is okay,” Ingrid murmured, wrapping her arms around herself.

“If he's still alive, he'll be defending Deirdru with Claude,” Ashe reassured her quietly. “You know...for this message to have arrived when it did, Claude must have sent it before we took the city back. That means...he knew we'd win, and that we'd be able to come to his aid afterward. Or at least, he was willing to bet his last hope that we would.”

The words hit Dimitri like a hammer blow to the chest.

It must have shown on his face, because Byleth slipped through the crowd and grasped his wrist in support. “He...he would have,” He muttered, half to himself, a hazy vision of playful green eyes flashing in his mind. He could almost hear the brunette teasing him, _'I wouldn't be much of a schemer if I couldn't see through you would I?', _followed by a kiss on the cheek and 'strategic retreat'_. He'd been especially fond of that particular tactic after the ball. _

Even after he gave up everything but revenge, even after Claude _saw_ him completely in the thrall of his demons at Gronder, he still...he still...

_I don't understand, _he thought helplessly, heart thundering frantically in his ribs. _Without Byleth I would have died a fruitless death on the battlefield, dragging my friends and maybe you as well down with me. You must know that, you're too clever not to. But you still believed that I would not just regain my wits, but my kingdom as well, in time to come and help you? _

“We'll make it,” Byleth promised him, her voice nearly lost among the tentative and rushed planning that was beginning to form out of their friends' conversations. “We'll reach him in time.”

His throat too tight to speak, he nodded sharply. _I will not loose one more person I love to the ambitions of the Empire. _

\+ _ + _ + _

The Warp Staves had _not _been stolen or misused, meaning that transportation to Alliance territory was right within their hands. It was one of the few strokes of good fortune Dimitri had experienced in a long time; he was almost pathetically grateful for it. Reorganizing the knights into a proper army also took far less time than it should have; men and women poured in from everywhere pledging him their swords, adding their strength to the ragtag army that had followed him and Byleth on their first march toward Enbarr. In fact, Gilbert and Seteth had to team up to turn away those who were too sick or infirm to fight effectively, yet offered themselves up anyway in hopes of serving their king.

_I do not deserve this, _Dimitri thought once again as he gazed out upon his army. _But...I will fight to be worthy of it. _Dorothea and Flayn were shouting out orders, separating the various companies into circles around each warp staff and instructing them on what to do afterwards.

“You'll be crossing the border without permission,” Gilbert noted ruefully, handing Dimitri Areadbhar. “Though in this case, I doubt that people of the Alliance will be too offended by the lack of protocol.”

“One can hope,” Dimitri responded with a dry chuckle, shifting the short spear on his shoulder as he grasped his ancestral weapon. It was hot to the touch, a pulse running through the cold alloy; he wondered if it could sense it was going into battle. “Keep in contact, Gilbert. I doubt the Empire supporters who remain have the power to do anything but fume impotently, but if they do, I would like you to keep me in the loop.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“And don't forget to see Annette off; she will be most put out otherwise.” Dimitri added pointedly. He nearly let out a very Claude-esque chuckle when Gilbert balked in response. “I'll make it an order if I have to.”

“I...yes. As you wish.” The old knight bowed to him and carefully made his way through the crowd to the company lead by Ashe astride his horse and Annette with the Flayn's ancestral staff strapped to her back.

Byleth, meanwhile, didn't bother to hide her startled laughter at that. He smiled at her before glancing across the army again. “I hope this will be enough.”

“Oh, it will be.” Byleth replied with a confident smile. “This is most of our standing army, Dimitri. The Empire can't afford to bring even half of this to invade the Alliance; and they can only invade in the first place because their opponent is scattered and disorganized by those javelins of light. _And _they aren't expecting us so soon, if they expect us at all. We would have to get extraordinarily unlucky to loose this fight.”

_We don't have to loose this fight to loose something irreplaceable, _nagged one of the voices that had stalked Dimitri ever since his world ended nine years ago. Instead of reacting to it, however, he squashed it with a force of effort.

“Clearly, I still need you to teach me to be more confident,” He remarked in reference to the very first seminar of hers that he'd gone to.

She smiled playfully in response, smacking his shoulder. “You're perfectly confident in situations where it's most welcome.”

He flushed hotly. “Are you really saying that out _here_?” Goddess, she'd said that after she'd followed him into his bedroom the previous night!

Blood crept up her cheeks in response. “Well if you're going to draw attention to it...”

Dimitri took a moment to sternly remind himself that he was _not _some flustered schoolboy and to get a grip before he trusted himself to speak again. “I'm sorry, my beloved. You caught me by surprise, that's all.” _Claude is the one who confidently smirks and teases while I desperately pray no one figures out why I'm suddenly so shy around him, after all. _

_Blessed Sothis, please protect him... _

Byleth blinked twice and looked up at the sky, her face reddening further. “Ah...” Before he could ask her what was wrong, she leaned on his shoulder and buried her face in his neck as if hiding. “N-nothing. I just...really like hearing you call me that.”

The words eased his heart a bit. Gently he kissed her forehead, smiling at her content sigh. “I'm glad.”

Dorothea's shout drew his attention back to the pressing matter at hand. Each of the Warp Staves was glowing, the magic ready to transport them dozens, hundreds of miles across Fodlan. Taking a calming breath, Dimitri stepped forward and prepared to address his troops. He hadn't planned to give a speech, only orders, but he ended up extolling the help the Alliance had given them before, the bravery of its leader, and how they had to take this chance to defeat the Empire – not in a battle of arms, but in the battle to save as many people from death as possible. A loud cheer of approval rang from seemingly every direction.

...For a split second...Dimitri thought he might have seen his father standing in the crowd, smiling proudly at him...

But the vision was gone in a blink, and the warp staves took him and his army away before he could think much about it.

\+ _ + _ + _

They landed a day's journey away from Deirdru.

Fortunately, their arrival was not met by frenzied chaos on the part of the Alliance citizens; only understandable shock and confusion that quickly devolved into pleading for them to march south to save the capital and Duke Riegan. It was a sign of how loved Claude was, and how well he had ruled, that his name was mentioned in the same breath as the very heart of the Alliance. He wondered if the man himself was aware of it.

_Please be safe, _Dimitri pleaded silently as they rushed across the land, towns opening their gates and passing on what little information they had along the way. _Please, Claude...please be alive... _

“Look at that,” Byleth hissed as the sun rose, pointing down the hill they had reached the top of. Dimitri sucked in a sharp breath as his eye adjusted and he caught on to what she'd seen.

It was a massive column of civilians, all fleeing from the direction of the coastal city. There were a scattered number of troops with them, but they were dwarfed by the sheer number of old and inform, mothers with children, teenagers not quite trained enough to wield weapons...Goddess, that had to be the entirety of Deirdru's population! Those at the head of the column let out shocked cries, pointing up the hill toward them. Dimitri glanced at Byleth, who nodded and whistled for their fellow classmates before they headed down into the valley to meet the crowd.

“Professor!” Lysithea looked like she'd seen better days; she was exhausted, dirty and had clearly been fighting for some time, but she smiled brightly as she rushed to greet them. “Dimitri! I mean – I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I'm very glad to see you!”

“Even Claude didn't expect you here so soon,” Linhardt said with a hint of astonishment, grasping Lysithea's hand to support her. That little gesture said everything about why he was here instead of among the Empire's troops; as much as the matching rings they wore. “How did you manage that?”

“There were some warp staves sitting in the Kingdom's treasure vault,” Byleth said quickly. “They were old, but they still worked. What's happening?”

“The Empire's closed in on us,” Lysithea explained, a look of hateful contempt on her face. “No doubt due to Lord Glouester and Lord Acheron's _extensive_ help. The army's spread too thin keeping the towns and hamlets from being sacked in revenge for our victory at Gronder, so they got here in good time. When he saw the army approaching, Claude ordered a full evacuation of Deirdru.” She gestured at the civilians that were creeping closer to them, frightened hope in their expressions. “The city's being held by a skeleton guard, including Leonie, Marianne, Raphael and Ignatz. Claude is in the harbor; he's too noble to admit it, but his injuries from Gronder are still slowing him down.”

“He's in the harbor?” Dimitri blurted out. “He can't retreat from there!”

“Unfortunately, there's only one way out of Deirdru if you aren't going by sea,” Linhardt said by way of explanation. “And one we needed to escape. If the army tries to retreat by land, they'd lead the Empire right to us.”

“And Lord Arundel is too arrogant and focused on the prize to consider that by chasing Claude, he's giving him just what he wants.” Byleth mused. She smiled faintly. “There's only one land path out of the city...but that goes both ways. When the Empire enters, they'll be trapped like rats in an area that Claude knows very well, with _us _coming in from the rear to smash their formations.”

Lysithea smirked. “Exactly. Funny how the oh-so-glorious Emperor has proven chronically incapable of _not _barreling face-first into Claude's schemes.” Her expression then dropped into a weary sincerity. “_Thank you. _For coming for us.”

“I'm honored by your faith,” Dimitri rasped out, bowing his head. _Claude used himself as bait...he's truly gambled everything on us... _“Is the Empire in the city now?”

“Yes,” Linhardt looked about and grimaced. “Lysithea and I can warp _some _of you directly into the harbor, but only about a dozen without stressing ourselves out. The rest will have to go around and break the reinforcements before crossing through the gates to join the fight proper.”

“I'll take the men around,” Byleth promised, turning to Dimitri and her students. “Send your old classmates in...they're each worth an army in their own right.” Ingrid gave her a bashful smile that quickly settled into a determined stance, patting her pegasus's mane. Ignatz, Dimitri decided, was in for a very pleasant surprise.

“Be careful,” Felix grunted.

“I know,” She smiled at him. “That goes for all of you, too.”

Byleth shouted up at the troops in old Fodlanese, carrying a regal and commanding tone benefiting of an archbishop and a queen. A roar answered her, and the kingdom troops followed her in black wave on the path to Deirdru, the ragged cheering of the citizens following them. Dimitri took Areadbhar in hand and watched the two mages clasped their hands together and then cast as one. The world warped horribly, but when the light cleared, the scent of salt water and the simple-but-elegant architecture of the capital city greeted him.

There was blood on the ground and shouts in the air; a dozen feet directly ahead of him, Hilda was struggling to hold the entrance to the harbor with only one archer and a bishop for support. The fact that she was largely succeeding, if struggling and clearly flagging, was a testament to her strength. Of course...that was no longer necessary.

“Hilda! Get down!”

The pinkette didn't waste a single second being stunned at his voice; she dropped to the ground, allowing Dimitri to take the short spear Sylvain had given him and throw it directly at her current tormentor. It pierced straight through the war master's chest, who died with a choked sound of disbelief. Ingrid and Sylvain both charged forward, relic weapons carving through the crowd of enemies effortlessly.

Hilda rolled to her feet, grabbing her own ancestral weapon off the ground. “Well look who made it after all!” She cheered. “Claude kept saying you'd show up just in the nick of time; and here I thought he'd read too many story books!”

Dimitri could only sheepishly smile in response. “If I am to be king, I ought to dramatically ride to the rescue at least once in my life.”

The pinkette cackled loudly in response, a real thread of relief underneath her amusement. “Where's the professor? I've been missing her.”

“Ensuring Arundel will not escape this city alive,” He assured her, hefting his lance. “Is Claude...?”

“Back that way.” Hilda pointed down the street behind him. “Don't worry, I haven't let anything bad happen to him.” She said the words with a wicked smirk. “He's been missing you two~, so make it up to him after the battle, okay?”

“Hah...let's turn things around before we devolve into teasing, shall we?”

“C'mon, I've been sitting on all this material for five years!” She pouted at him, sucker punching a warrior approaching her without a backwards glance. “Oh well. I can't really leave the road here, but if you're ready to apply your crazy strength to those archers, I would _most_ appreciate it.”

“Done.”

The battle...well, it wasn't really fair to call it a _battle _once Byleth and the Kingdom Troops crashed through the front gates, splintering the Empire's formation like sand in the wind. The wonderful thing about it was that the Empire was so _stunned _they essentially lost all cohesion. The fight to reclaim Fhirdiad had proven more of a challenge. The Alliance's moral rose sharply, and they fought back with even greater strength. Ingrid quickly corralled Ignatz and Marianne to safety while Raphael, Leonie, Felix and Bernadetta became a circle of death, destroying any enemy who approach them. Byleth vanished to the far side of the city, and while it nagged at Dimitri to go and find her, he felt compelled to make sure Hilda wasn't overwhelmed. Besides, this time she wasn't alone.

Ultimately, Byleth must have found Arundel first, because at some point during their defense of the harbor, a loud shout informed the Empire that their general was dead.

Dimitri's heart sank a bit; he'd hoped to interrogate his uncle, find out why all of this had to happen...but frankly, saving the city was more important. Besides...he did hope to speak to Edelgard, even now. Perhaps she would now be willing to tell him everything...

“Faith, huh? I think I finally understand it...”

Dimitri turned around, all the words on the tip of his tongue falling away.

Claude's beautiful white wyvern fluttered to the ground, its rider gracefully sliding onto the bloody ground. His movements were a little stiff; only really noticeable if you knew him well. _The burns must have been truly terrible for their effects to still be lingering..._ Failnaught was slung comfortably over his shoulder; he was a little bloody but not seriously hurt. There...were no words for the relief he felt upon realizing that. “You're early,” Claude teased, those beautiful green eyes warm and bright. “To think I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow.”

“...You knew I'd come?” Dimitri murmured, shaking his head. “How?”

Claude chuckled, putting a hand on his hip. “What's with that surprised look, my friend?” He responded chidingly, a soft, warm smile upon his lips. “You didn't think I'd given up on you coming back, did you?”

Dimitri would vehemently deny gasping later; but he couldn't stop himself. “Y-You...” Claude's smile grew, an achingly familiar playful edge chasing all reason away. He knew right away that the brunette was not talking about him physically arriving in Fhirdiad or Deirdru.

There was more faith and love in those words than in any prayer he'd ever heard in his life.

Areadbhar slipped from his fingers, hitting the ground with a faint clatter as he crossed the distance between them and seized Claude in a rough, passionate kiss heedless of the two armies surrounding them. The archer froze up in shock while the tumultuous cheers of victory echoed from seemingly all directions. Filled with a wine-heavy pleasure at surprising him, Dimitri wrapped his arms around Claude's back, feeling the warm thrum of power from the blessed bow just above his wrists.

Claude murmured something against his lips too muffled to make out. Dimitri slid one hand along his jaw and took the opportunity to press his tongue into the man's mouth. The heartfelt moan he got in return made the approving laughter and applause from onlookers well worth it.

“M-Mitya,” Claude gasped out, pulling back a bit. “I-in front of all these people...!”

“So what?,” Dimitri asked breathlessly. “I love you. I will not _hide _that.”

“T-That's...but...”

“Claude! Dimitri!” A beautiful voice cut across the archer's stammering. Byleth shoved her way through the crowd, covered in blood and dirt and bruises; her eyes gleamed at the sight of them, and she lunged forward and threw her arms around both of them. She couldn't quite reach, but her enthusiasm more than made up for it. “I can't decide whether to kiss you or kill you,” She informed their brunette with righteous indignation. “You scared the goddess-damned life out of me when Lysithea told me you were playing bait! What were you _thinking_?”

“But Teach, I had to, it was the only way he'd take the bait,” Claude protested, dramatically cringing under her resulting glare. “I'm sorry!”

“Good,” Byleth muttered, before pressing a hard kiss on his mouth. When she pulled back, it was with the air from the archer's lungs; Dimitri had to let Claude lean on him lest he collapse completely. “Let's get the city secured and bring the civilians back...” Her fingers dropped to his belt and gave it a sharp tug. “...then you can apologize _properly_.”

She smirked when they both turned bright red before _sauntering _off toward Leonie and Hilda, both of whom were smirking and pocketing the golden coins they'd just won off an old bet .

“Did she just...?” Claude asked weakly, disbelief warring with helpless laughter.

“Don't look at me like that; it's _your _fault she likes teasing so much,” Dimitri retorted, before reluctantly letting go of the other man. “Come, my love. Let's reassure your people that you're alive and well; they're very worried.”

“You think so?”

“I know it.” The look of wonder and happiness...and the hint of tears...in those green eyes made everything well worth it.

\+ _ + _ + _

Dimitri sank into the mattress, gulping for air as the pleasant ache of contentment washed over him. Soft humming brushed against his ear, waiting patiently for him to somewhat gain a grasp on his faculties before a calloused hand guided him back into a kiss. He chuckled against those warm lips, running his free hand up his lover's bare back. They'd made love so many times already and he _still_ wanted more? “You're insatiable.”

Claude broke the kiss with a hungry moan, green eyes misty and so very, very tempting. “I spent five years thinking you'd been murdered,” He responded huskily. “Please, just give me this.”

Guilt marred the extremely pleasant sensations he was experiencing. “I'm so sorry,” He murmured, tilting his head so Claude could better trace kisses down his throat. He shuddered at every touch. “I...I did want to go to you, many times. But I could barely think rationally; so many times I lost any sense of where I was and where I was going...” He closed his eyes as Claude's thumb gently traced a scar on his hip. “I...guess I wanted you to be safe. Even from me.”

“Idiot,” Claude muttered, gripping his hip and shifting him into a tight embrace. Even then he was careful not to disturb Byleth where she lay right beside him; she had fallen asleep just moments ago. “I would have taken care of you.”

“I know,” Dimitri replied softly. He ran his fingers through those soft brown locks, taking in his lover's injured expression. “I'm not certain that would have been wise, though. I would have made a lot of trouble for you, demanding we take the fight to the Empire, unable to comprehend how delicate the line you were walking was.”

“I could have lived with that.”

“I couldn't, not if it put you in danger.”

“Have I ever mentioned your too noble for your own damned good?”

“Frequently.”

There was a brief pause, and then they both chuckled; Dimitri reveled in the warm rumble of Claude's chest, pressing a kiss just above his heart. His hand brushed against a fairly new scar, a large burn mark that could only have come from one moment. “Don't,” Claude said, kissing him hard on the mouth to steal the apologies from his tongue. Dimitri let out a quiet moan of protest. “Don't care.” The words had to be interpreted from the movement of his lips. “Would die for you.”

“Never say that,” Dimitri retorted when he pulled back.

Claude merely stared defiantly back at him. “I would die for you,” He repeated slowly and calmly. “It wouldn't be my first choice. I wouldn't reach for it unless I had to. But I'd do it.”

“And I'm the idiot?” His heart raced painfully. He couldn't bear to imagine the scenario Claude was painting with those words.

“Well, you are the king of a conservative nation who decided to kiss a half-breed in front of his entire army.” There was real worry in those green eyes; old fear and rejection flitted throughout the happiness they were sharing.

“They'll just have to bloody well live with it,” Dimitri bit out. “And goddess help anyone who calls you that in front of me once we marry.” He smiled at Claude's stunned expression. “Oh, why does that surprise you so? Did you really think Byleth and I would have chosen to be with you if we hadn't planned to wed you as well?”

“Because he's very silly,” Byleth's murmur floated over them; she propped herself up on one elbow and kissed the archer's shoulder. “And afraid to hope for more than he thinks he's allowed.”

Claude let out a shaky laugh, a stray tear falling from his eye. “Ha...ha...did we wake you, Teach?”

“Wasn't sleeping that deeply.” She nipped at his chin, tugging on his shoulders. “Of course we're going to marry you, silly prince. Who else will make us laugh?”

“But you're...the church...it'll cost you...”

“What's the point of any of this if we can't fight for the people that we love?” Dimitri asked rhetorically, planting a quick kiss on Claude's neck before turning him onto his side. Byleth's lips curved into a pleased smile, drawing the archer's head to her chest as she lined herself up against him. “It has to wait until after we've won...and there is the matter of your homeland...but we'll get to that in time. For now...”

Claude let out a soft sob, and uttered something in a language Dimitri had only started to learn before the monastery fell all those years ago. He wasn't certain, but he thought they were 'I love you so much'. _Prince _Claude smiled so brightly when he and Byleth carefully repeated the words back to him, he suspected he was right.

Enbarr loomed in their future, but in that moment, everything was peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So; as I imagined it in my head, the final scene was a bit longer and a good deal more explicit; however, I have never written a fully realized scene of intimacy in my life and figured the results would be clunky and awkward, so I dialed it back a bit. 
> 
> I am incredibly in love with Claude's line about not giving up on Byleth coming back, it's so god-damned romantic, that I decided to re-use it here when I realized it totally fits.

**Author's Note:**

> You know...I think if Byleth died or even just came to close to it in the Blue Lion storyline, Dimitri would just...completely collapse. I don't mean he'd come even more unhinged than he already was, I mean I think he'd just lose the will to live. Fortunately, I could NEVER be so cruel to my poor suffering lion prince, so he just had a very unpleasant scare :) 
> 
> This is my OT3 and it's taking over my writing, send help. Or join the madness. I don't mind either way!


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